


Just Another Destroyed Lecture Bench

by Hell_Again



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Gay Sirius Black, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Marauders AU, Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Other, Pansexual Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hell_Again/pseuds/Hell_Again
Summary: Basically a fic from a post that I saw on Pinterest that was a post on Tumblr. I don't have a Tumblr account (I know, it's shocking), so I'll link the pin and if anyone follows (or whatever you do on Tumblr) the person who posted it originally, you know who to thank.So here we go, join Sirius as he spends his time trying to make Art History punk rock, and discovering who would critique someone's lecture doodle.https://i.pinimg.com/originals/22/9c/01/229c0186419925c7c2251925f6fddcc3.jpg





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings Friends! If any of you have come from Good Old Fashioned Lover Boys, then don't fret, I'm still writing that one.   
> This first chapter is just a short one, because I'm going to write it so it's done in weeks. However, this fic begins on a Friday. The next chapter will be longer most definitely.

FRIDAY, 21 September, 2018

Art history? Why on earth did he choose art history? Out of all the possible things he could have chosen. Why art history? Sirius was practically at the point of groaning and slamming his head down on his desk as he looked over all the notes he had taken, or rather, all the very, very pointless notes he had taken. Why had he chosen Art History? Why? Why had he chosen to go to university at all? He was an idiot, that was why. He’d told himself that out of all the options, Art History would be a good one.   
Art, he loved.  
History, he secretly loved even more. 

It had taken him ages to decided. Trying to work out what would be the most punk rock thing to study. Nothing was punk rock enough! He had moaned, sobbing into James’s shoulder.   
“James, nothing is punk rock. What do I choose? What do I choose?”   
“Don’t choose anything. You don’t need to go.”  
“How dare you! Assume I can’t make the decision! Art History it is!” he had declared far too loudly for an early Sunday morning. 

He winced at the memory. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to enrol in such a huff, but deep down, he knew that he would always have chosen Art History. Even deeper down, he knew that he was a nerd, but that wasn’t punk rock AT ALL. So that was something that was banned from being mentioned. So much as a “why are you studying Art History” and a glare severe enough to make Zeus let-me-fuck-every-single-living-thing-most-of-whom-I’m-related-to stand down from his throne on Olympus. 

Yes, they had been studying ancient Greek artwork. And yes, it was one of Sirius’s favourite things to learn about. But no, NO, they DID NOT make it interesting at all. Maybe when they changed topics it would be more interesting, though Sirius doubted it. Despite the lack of paying attention, and the lack of notes, Sirius didn’t particularly want to fail either. And it was times like this that he thanked whatever gods were out there, Greek or otherwise, for the internet and for google. Especially Google. Google the lifesaver. Much more of a god than Dionysus “let’s get utterly and completely pissed with a bunch of wild and slightly murderous girls”. 

It wasn’t long before Sirius gave up on trying to salvage notes and learn something. He would catch up, he would likely ace the exam, he generally did. He wasn’t particularly proud of his studying habits, but he also wasn’t horrified enough to change them. Many a time, people had tried to convince him to actually pay attention in classes, and now, they’d tried warning him that he’d have to pay attention in lectures. But still, he found himself getting bored and just drifting away from the subject and into whatever doodles he was creating, while pretending to be somewhat interested. But now that he hadn’t made any effort in the lecture, what was the point in trying to recover the notes now? He’d work it out in the next lecture. He was sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters on the same day??? Goodness, what is this? Don't get used to it, I'm certain it won't be happening often.

MONDAY, 24 September, 2018

He’d tried listening, he really had, but the topic was even less interesting this time! Honestly! How could anyone expect him to pay attention when they were listening to some professor drone on and on and on about the Baroque movement. What the fuck even was that? He’d googled some pictures that morning, it’d looked extravagant and exuberant. Something that maybe could have kept Sirius’s attention for more than the fifteen minutes that it had managed in reality. Maybe it was the professor? Maybe it was the topic? He had no clue. And once again found himself wondering why he had chosen anything at all. He should have known that university was just going to butcher his fascination with the subject. 

“Early 17th century, all the way to the mid-18th century,” the lecturer said, his monotone voice boring more than just Sirius, he was sure. He couldn’t be the only one who found him just so inexplicably repetitive and tedious. Surely, surely not? It wasn’t even the lack of punk rockness about it that made Sirius groan! It was just so, so very boring! How could a man make art AND history so very boring?

Sirius had given up now, and was busy doodling on the desk, his black biro pen drawing surprisingly smoothly over the light wood surface of the desk. After a few minutes of just random doodles, an idea popped into his head and he suppressed a grin. Or at least that’s what he told himself, in reality, he grinned wide and almost laughed aloud. In moments, his head was down and from some angles, it could almost look as if he was furiously writing notes. In reality, he was drawing something completely different. 

It took all the self control he had (which wasn’t much), to stop from shouting “done!” when he finished the sketch. It was quite ridiculous, even Sirius admitted that. She was in an utterly awful pose, one that surely, surely would have impressed even the most extravagant of drag queens. Of course though, instead of being coated in glitter and feathers (that sounded rather nice, Sirius acknowledged, but not quite punk rock enough) this particular woman was utterly and completely nude. Maybe she could be considered arty? Maybe? 

Taking his phone out of his pocket and rejoicing in the fact that he was no longer in school and wouldn’t get detention for such an act, he sent a snapchat to James. Who would of course, appreciate the doodle and the caption “this is u”. 

WEDNESDAY, 26 September, 2018

Sirius was almost excited coming into the lecture today. He’d read (yes, he’d read, yes, it was punk rock) about the Baroque movement on a website and found that while he still knew close to nothing about it, it really was quite impressive art. And of course, if it got too boring, he could always add to the doodle from Wednesday, that had been entertaining for at least the rest of the hour long lecture. He could send James an update. Who had indeed appreciated the snapchat. 

Attempting to look punk rock as he set out his notebook, pens, pencils and most other invented stationary, he noticed something was slightly different about his drawing from Wednesday. There was a comment, written in elegant, sloping writing.   
“why is her navel so far down? surely it should be higher?”, it read. And Sirius was taken aback. Who would insult his art? And more importantly, who was critiquing someone’s lecture doodles? What fucking nerd would critique someone’s lecture doodles? A weird fucking nerd, that’s who. 

Still in shock, but equal parts curious and annoyed, he replied in his own brash, but sophisticated handwriting.   
“inspected a lot of ladies’ belly buttons, have you?” he asks, smirking to himself. What’s this shithead going to do now? Still smirking, he realised that the lecturer was actually speaking something remotely similar to English and was actually covering interesting topics! What ho! 

The rest of the lecture was spent in furious note-writing. He brought his phone out to record! To actually record! The lecture so what he missed when replying to the fucker that commented on his drawing, he could pick up again. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do the classic “catch up as quickly as possible” couple of weeks before the exams. That would be new! And exciting, maybe? Notes. Notes, he reminded himself. Bending down over the paper, he almost looked like some sort of Disney villain. His hand was moving faster and faster, his long hair falling over his face, the leather jacket on the back of his seat did nothing to help make him look anything less than a villain. (But really, that’s probably what he was going for)

The professor started packing up and Sirius almost laughed. What was this? A miracle? He’d practically kept focus for the better part of an hour? James would be shocked. Marlene would never believe him. Honestly, she probably thought he was just sketching. That or she was so invested in the lecture that she hadn’t even noticed him suddenly paying attention. He barely believed himself. These professors could make something interesting? That was truly an achievement. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all? Who knew?

Leaning back in his chair, he surveyed the rest of the group. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for, clearly none of them were the mystery insulter, because they’d have to be sitting in this seat. Unless any of them took a class later in the afternoon? None of them looked like they would insult someone’s lecture doodles though. The majority of them looked as if they would be far, far to immersed in the lecture to even notice a doodle on the desk, let alone inspect it close enough to criticise it. The other few students left, well they just didn’t seem like it’s something they would do. It just didn’t. 

“Hey Marlene. Do you know what lectures are in here other than this one?” Sirius asked, leaning over to the desk next to him, chair tilted, arm sprawled across her desk.   
“And why would I know that?” she asked in return, rolling her eyes at the question.   
“You know a lot of things? You pay more attention than I do,” he suggested, eyebrows raised, still hopeful that she might have some answers.   
“That’s not a hard thing to do, Sirius. No, I don’t know what lectures they have in here, I’m sure someone else could tell you though. But why do you want to know?”   
“I’ll have you know that I was paying attention for the whole lecture!” Sirius protested, half glaring at the girl before she stared back at him and he gave up, “Fine. And no reason, just curious.”  
“You’re such a liar Sirius Orion Black, but I’ve not got the time for whatever you’re planning so I’m going to leave it until you get so excited that you “just had to tell someone”.”   
“I find that highly offensive. Goodbye,” Sirius replied, sliding out of his seat, slipping on the leather jacket that was hanging off the back of his chair and grabbing all his stationary. A quick wave to Marlene and he was off. 

FRIDAY, 28 September, 2018  
He was prepared for today’s lecture, something he and James had both doubted would ever happen. It was an exciting event, really. But what was an even more exciting event was the discovering of what the Mysterious Doodle Critiquing Stranger had replied, though maybe they hadn’t replied and that truly would be sad. The morning had been spent attempting to avoid the fact that this strange person had actually made him want to get to the theatre early, just to see the reply. He’d mentioned this to James the night before who’d very insensitively burst out laughing. Once he’d finished with his laughter, James had told him that he was being completely ridiculous and asked what was so fascinating about someone who made fun of your lecture doodles.   
_“Well —”  
“Well what? How’s this person so fascinating? How boring is that lecture?”  
“I’m not fascinated. Just curious. And actually, for your information the lecturer has clearly realised just how awful his lectures were because he’s slowly becoming more interesting.”  
“Just curious, sure.”  
“Sod off.”   
“Already gone,” he’d replied, and he practically was, going off on a date with Lily, Sirius had been surprised that he’d not already gone._

He hadn’t even sat down before he had noticed there was more writing on the desk, and he wondered if anyone else sat at this desk and read their conversations. Now whoever else sat there knew what the stranger’s response to Sirius’s question was. Whoever else sat there would know the answer before Sirius himself did, how could this person possibly have replied, was it a “yes I have inspected a fair few ladies’ belly buttons” or was it a “No, you’re bloody mad”? He didn’t know yet, but there were other people that did and that was a weird thought. It made Sirius shudder a little, and he only hoped that he would never find out who else sat there, apart from this mysterious stranger of course. He absolutely wanted to meet whoever it was that felt the need to respond to people’s lecture doodles. How he’d work out who it was, he had no idea at all, but he would work it out, it was a vow he’d made to himself after the last lecture. He had barely managed to sit down before he read the reply that was written in the same elegant handwriting (How did someone have such nice writing? His wasn’t bad, but this person’s, wow, just wow.). 

“Probably more than you, judging by your drawing.” 

And all of a sudden Sirius was overwhelmed with very punk rock-like hurt. This person, this stranger, this human being who didn’t even KNOW Sirius had dared to insult both him and his artwork. This, this was too much. The punk rock in Sirius was overflowing and he just _had_ to let this mysterious stranger know how upset, how hurt, how OFFENDED he is. And so he scrawls his response right under the stranger’s. 

“fuk u” 

He writes, hoping that it will convey just how much this person has hurt him. 

He spends the rest of the lecture in a huff, purposely stacking his stationary on top of the stranger’s comment, his reputation must be salvaged before he can talk to them again. He was rather upset, he had been rather enjoying speaking to this Mysterious Doodle Critiquing Stranger, but of course they had to go ruin it by insulting him. He could only hope that they would give in and apologise sooner rather than later so they could have a proper conversation. This other person seemed to be of the sarcastic variety, but were they? He had wanted to find out, but clearly plans had changed. 

On one hand, being annoyed at Mysterious Doodle Critiquing Stranger seemed to make him concentrate more. On the other, he wasn’t sure if the notes he was writing down would help, while they were related to the information, they were also rather detailed, it would take forever to sort through them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any good? Really bad? Let me know, if you feel like it. I hope you're all having a beautiful day/night. 
> 
> If you want to contact me, send an email to: orleuad@gmail.com

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was it? Have I done justice to a Sirius-like experience at uni?


End file.
